You'll Be Okay (Charles Xavier x Reader)
by klyorenn
Summary: You remember exactly what happened back in New York where he saved your life. Seeing his picture in your report, his piercing blue eyes seems to pin you on the wall, you want to thank him for what he did three years ago. Never you know, that you are standing in front of him, eyes bluer than ever and a handsome face with a soft smile that curves up under his nose.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

You remember that your heart was throbbing. Small gashes appeared on your legs and arms as you try and look at people running and screaming from boulders and rocks which were eerily lifted off the ground and swiftly dragged across the street with a thunderous sound. You didn't know what was happening, but you had been scratched by small chunks of cement in the process and you need medical attention.

You were just lost. You had known New York all your life but it didn't seemed to reason why you were just idling as if you were also searching for somebody. The top of the building near you produced a dreadful thunderous sound and realized that it's about to fall apart. Looking up, you saw floating chunks of cement as it hit other buildings going north in a meticulous line.

Gasping for air with saucer-like eyes, a big chunk of building block was about to hit you and you were suddenly pushed by someone. Someone who was hard, but warm to the touch. Both of you rolled unto the course pavement and you firmly grasped his bicep as if your life depended on it.

You were scared and hurt that you realized that you cannot fathom to open your eyes. Silently sobbing to yourself, the guy's shirt was soaked with dirt and your tears, you heard a voice. Not your own voice but a _man's_ voice. You wondered where it was from but no mouths were moving, only people screaming for help and running for their lives. It's as if it was inside your head but you couldn't summon your imagination to imagine this. Are you imagining this? It was husky like he had been fighting a hard battle and has a slightly heavy British accent to it. You tried to stop crying to hear what it said.

 _"You're gonna be okay…"_ The voice assured you. _Yes_ , you said to yourself. _It's in my head._ Surely it's not your conscience because you know your own voice. You're a reporter for god sake; voice of the world, first person to speak to the universe and you know what your voice sounded clearly.

You noticed that he was still huddled to you. He loosened his grip and looked at you better with a concerned look that seemed to match the tone you heard inside your mind. You felt relaxed all of a sudden as he stared at you with his blue piercing eyes that hued bluer when stricken with the right angle of light. He was doing something in your mind that made you stay calm. You know it had to be because you feel a light force that softly brushed the side of your face and cooled as if ice had been placed.

He took you to a nearby post where the walls looked sturdier than ever and unaffected by the eerie floating rocks. He looked up to see them still floating. You wondered if he knew anything about those rocks because he was pondering, eyes followed the line of rocks that led to Times Square.

He looked at you again, carefully dropping you off to the ground. "Stay safe, alright?" He smoothed a lock of your hair and placed it behind your ear. And back when you know it, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 1

***** _Note: I just realized that James McAvoy is Scottish and not British. Let's just stick to British Charles Xavier._

 **CHAPTER 1**

"Back to you, Sarah. That's a wrap, Tim." You say to the camera man, Tim Douglas, as you drop your arm with a microphone on your hand. Behind you, is a house in flames on a bleak night; it's a one story house, fit for a family of four or even a couple. Ash scatters all over the lawn while some part of the house emits heavy smoke that you could even see it in your eyes perfectly in the dark sky. The firemen are rushing in and out of their truck as they grab a hose to cascade water while the others try to find any victims still trap inside. 

You have interviewed a few people while you were still on camera. Base on your interview, the people who live there are the Morgans, a family of four. Apparently there was a short explosion that startled most part of the neighborhood. It was like someone was experimenting fire and created a blast out of it they say. Then you notice that there are shattered glass on the lawn that belongs to the windowpane on the façade of the house. You look back at it with a melancholy feeling. Tim says that he needs to clean the camera lenses because some of the smoke that is reaching near us is making it foggy and he's going to get the equipment. You nod your head, not looking at him.

It looks like a mystery to you. What you get from the policemen to the story is that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan's son, Drew Morgan, left the socket of the computer plugged on for hours then accidentally spilled water on it causing it to spark and catch the end cloth of his bed in a flash. It seems like a common and a banal problem and wonder why it would cause the whole house to burn. Most of the ashes uncovered are from his bedroom where the furniture was burnt and black to dust. The smoke dies down and you see, in the corner of your eye, someone sitting on the firetruck ledge with a damp towel wrap around him. 

It's a boy of a young age, maybe in his early teenage years. He isn't looking at the house but down to the ground where shadows dance with a somber expression on his sharp face. His hair was black and the corners of his mouth are slightly turned down. This must be Drew Morgan you think. You look to your left and right to see if someone would interrogate him or take care of him, but you found none. You don't look for Tim because this boy isn't really in a mood for news interrogations. You think that what he needs is for someone to just talk to him and assure him that everything's going to be alright.

With a warm heart, you stride forward and sit down next to him as if you have this all planned even though you don't even know what to say to him. In interviews, if it's a situation where it is drastically shocking, you don't ask a person if he or she is okay. You already know that he is not okay so there is no need for you to say that.

"You should go inside. It's cold here." You reply, bobbing your head once to the firetruck. He flinches as his brown eyes look at you sideways without his head turning.

"No, I'm okay." He mutters. He adjusts the towel that slips on his shoulders and stares to the ground some more. He notices that you are a reporter since you dress up like one and he recoils as he stares at the house which is already burnt out.

"I'm not going to livestream this." You say as you smile meekly but it is quite awkward. He doesn't respond and you don't force him to.

"Where are your parents?" You ask him. You don't see any adult in the same condition as him and you feel suddenly sad in realizing this. He doesn't respond again and seems to fight an urge to cry and you feel guilty all over again for bringing it up. He's only a young child with an innocent face. You realize that he needs to be alone and question to yourself as to why you haven't read him more in the first place.

You give up trying to alleviate him so you stand up and decide to look for Tim instead. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask someone, okay?"

Tim arrives with his gigantic camcorder properly place on his shoulder. His expression as he sees you is surprise.

"You didn't tell me that you interviewed Drew Morgan! You could've told me." You wave Tim off with your hand with a face that tells him that it's unimportant and that you got nothing from Drew Morgan.

"Not even a single information about the Morgan House? C'mon Y/N. He's the main story." He prods you.

"He needs to be alone for a while, Tim. Maybe when he arrives in the hospital, he'll get consulted." You say to him. He sighs, "So we'll head back to the van?" You nod your head and you both leave the accident. 

As you are on your way to the van, you hear someone saying, "when did this happen?" You stop on your tracks, head searching for that voice. You heard it before, that English accent which saved your life. It's so familiar that you remember searching for _him_ on the internet before, trying to find his whereabouts but find none of course.

"Tim, just go ahead. I'll be right back for a second." Before he gets a chance to ask you why, you flee and pace toward it. Fast walking on the dirt road, there are lines of cars that blocks the street, making the Morgan house short for you to be able to see. Hidden behind a rusty, red sedan, you see him. The man who told you to keep safe. It's _really_ him. Only that, he's on a wheelchair. His back is facing you and you could already tell that it's him because you remember the day he carried you and remember his brown wavy hair brushing your forehead.

"Early evening about six. Professor," Says someone next to him. " We couldn't find the boy. Heck, the whole house burned there's no sign of him. " He has a desperate tone in his voice. The guy is tall and lean. He's wearing a plaid shirt with a denim jacket over it and has a pair of glasses on his head. He leads the man who saved you to see the remains of the house better.

"Drew wouldn't be that hard to track, Alex. We don't even need Cerebro to find him." You follow him, crouching behind cars and you suddenly stop when he also abruptly stop, making a hand at the young man who was strolling him.

"Wait—I heard something." He looks back, brows furrowing and lips seal. You feel stiff because he is directly looking where you are most likely there but a car is masking you. His face is slightly different compare when you saw him three years ago, but still, you find him varying. He still has a clean face but you catch sight of a soft stubble which seems to grow out reaching to his jaw, and his hair grows longer. His eyes are dark blue which lingers at the car as if they're going to stab right into it. At least you could tell that he's still handsome man. 

Seeing him in full view makes you a little bit sad because you are curious as to why he is on a wheelchair. You silently praise god that he doesn't see you directly but he's not yet done. He goes near to the car and you move to the trunk where the taillights of the sedan are.

"What is it?" The guy, Alex, asks as he's trailing behind him.

"I don't know. I feel a weird sense that someone is following us. Not malicious, but it's also not normal." You feel your heart thumping. You have to get out of here and fast. The last thing you want is to be embarrassed by your hero whom you didn't see for the last three years and let him think that you're stalking him which _probably_ you are.

"It must be your 'secret' weird nerves, Professor. It must be a cat or something." He moves to the left side at the head of the car, both of you oppositely position, but found nothing. You couldn't go to the other side of the car because his friend is there standing and waiting for him, so the rational thing that you could think of is to hide under a truck right next to the sedan which is a lifesaver.

"Yeah, you're most probably right. Carry on then." The guy strolls him out of your sight until they are being block by a police car. You crawl out and stand up to dust your skirt with your hands. That is so close. You cry out a sigh of relief as you decide to head back to Tim. He could almost tell that he sees you but then decides not to tell anything. You hold your urge to surrender and to just let him know you and your face. You're glad that you did though. You think it's not really the time.

Going back to the van, Tim looks irritated and agitated. As usual, he asks you where have you been and tells you that he has some important matters he has to do at home which you know is playing Call of Duty full time on his Play Station. You make an excuse saying that you have to get the final reports from the police to make the headline confirmed for the news. 

You both get inside the van; Tim pushing the engine key on the driver's seat while you are seated on the front seat beside him. Since the other way to return to the news center is by going to this rocky dirt path that is twice as short as the main including traffic, the sound of equipment and other junk you have behind you rattles which you are already used to.

"Ow!" You and Tim both jump at surprise. You both heard a silent shriek of pain and Tim stops the car abruptly. You both look at each other with a questioning look.

"What the hell was that?" He looks back to the passenger seat which is turned into a small cable television service line with short TVs and satellites in place. You quickly rush to the side of the van and open the door sideways only to see a boy fall to the ground with a grunt.

You are astonish to see Drew Morgan who gradually stands up and nurses his head which must be throbbing.

"Wow, man. You need to drive carefully." He says, feeling his head.

"Drew Morgan?" Tim asks, a little bit unnerve.

"What are you doing inside the van?" You say and you're about to hold him so that he wouldn't run away. Both of you are still in shock that you don't even know what to ask him. "You should be with the police." Tim tells him.

"Please! Don't give me to the police. I just want to be somewhere far from here." He says, voice shaking.

"By staying inside our van?" Tim mockingly says with a smirk on his face but also with a look of disgust.

"My parents and sister died on that fire, and it's all my fault, okay?! I just want to kill myself!" He breaks down and you stare at Tim with half antipathy and half sympathy for the child.

"Don't say that. It's an accident." You assure him, trying to keep the unsure feeling if it's actually true. "You're not a fire-breathing monster."

You think that he doubts that because he wince at what you said. "Yeah?" Drew is about to say something but he shuts it down, not finishing. You hint that he has a fiery personality and a dull one with nothing in between both. You don't know his story and surely he won't tell you a lot about it because he is confused.

Tim looks at you in a what-should-we-do? look and you almost shrug at him.

"Take me to my apartment, Tim, and you'll head back to the center." You request as he doesn't question you. "Get in, Drew."

You offer Drew a fresh small set of clothes you got from your closet. Mostly, you pick the ones which are baggy shirts and college sweatshirts.

"Okay. You owe me an explanation. Speak." You cross your arms under your chest as you stare at him down as he is sitting on the dining chair. You aren't in a mood for comforting him if he really admit that he killed his parents and his sister. That stunt he did in the van made you feel disrespected and thank god you do because too much sympathy leads to guilt.

He doesn't say anything, just stares absentmindedly as if he's lost in abyss. "I don't care if you tell me it's hard to tell it to anybody. Tell me." You slightly force him and you give a sigh of relief that he doesn't break out again.

"My sister was just playing one of my game consoles on my bed. Mom and dad are in the kitchen, probably preparing dinner. I was just studying for my exams this week. I don't know." He seems to find better words for him to describe what he actually means. "I just lost control." Then, he burst right into tears.

You rush forward to hug him and he buries his head on your stomach. _He doesn't even know my name,_ you think. You'll just sort all of this out tomorrow. It's a long day and it's eleven in the evening.

"There's a spare bedroom right next to mine. You could sleep in there." You awkwardly break the hug, patting his head as if you're scared of puppies. He nods his head, wipes his eyes and walks going to the direction I am pointing to, to where his bedroom is.

In meantime, you sit down and take a deep breath. This is one hell of a night and the other thing you can't get rid of, is the man sitting on a wheelchair staring right at you.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

You wake up sweating. A bead of perspiration rolls down from your forehead down to your cheek and you curiously wipe it with the back of your palm. Usually it's often cold here in New York since it is late autumn. The thermostat isn't broken is it? You're pretty sure that you set it up normally every day. You wake up anyway, sitting up straight as you rub your eyes.

" _Drew."_ You gasp as you hastily lift the covers of your bed and hurriedly go to the spare bedroom where your former roommate slept last month and Drew sleeps in it now. As you go nearer to his room, the floor goes hot, not too hot but it still gives you a jump and you scram farther with a shock look.

"What the hell?" You mutter then you tilt your head a little bit to the right to see Drew Morgan if he's sleeping because his door is open slightly. You find out that he is sleeping, but he's murmuring something that you couldn't make it out what he says.

You head back to what he said to you last night.

 _I just lost control… The house burned down and it's all my fault…_

You're astonish to know that Drew has something unexplainable that you don't want to admit. You have read them before and you even reported about it too. You thought that you should wear shoes and the first pair of shoes you see are your rain boots. You slip them and dash to Drew. 

The air is warm and when you draw closer to Drew it becomes warmer. It _is_ true. He's an actual _mutant._ You have a mutant sleeping in your apartment, that's very nice.

Based on what your heard about them, they infiltrate military systems and weaponry and they're the main reason of mayhem and havoc around the city. There is one news about the woman in blue. She got injured in the White House, you remember, but the main news about her is that she saved the president. You guess some of them aren't that bad at all, and surely Drew isn't a bad… person.

"Drew?" You call out but he doesn't budge. He's sweating as well and his brows furrow as if he's pulling them hard. His lips are slightly open and you can hear moans that signals you that he's uneasy.

"Wake up, Drew." You touch his shoulder to shake it but he's scorching that you pull it away. It appears as if he has a very high fever, a high fever that the thermometer would blow up. This isn't normal and you slightly panic over it because you don't know what to do.

You find something for him to poke. A nearby water jug is place on the bedside table and you quickly grab it and prod him with it and saying his name.

"No… It's not me." He mutters and you ignore him. He's really breathing heavily and fast. Next thing you know, you hear a shout. Not Drew's shout but someone's shout. One of a man's.

"Drew, you wake up right now, you're scaring me!" You keep shaking him until his gray eyes slowly flutter. You stop poking him and heave a heavy sigh of relief.

"Y/N?" He sighs heavily, trying to catch his breathe. His chest is going up and down and yours as well.

"I'm here." You say, you take hold of the bedside table to balance yourself. "What the hell was that?" you exhale.

Suddenly, a loud bang comes from downstairs follow by a shout of Drew's name. _What the hell's going on now?_ Someone or a _few_ of them, since you don't only hear one footsteps, are going to the kitchen. It's the same voice that created the shout before Drew woke up.

As you are about to head to the door, you almost bump to a tall guy. He's maybe inches taller than you that you have to look up to meet his eyes. His eyes are framed with black glasses and he looks like the actual definition of a person who loves science more than his wife. His hair is sweep to the side and his lanky figure makes you look on his side to realize that there're two other people behind him. With _the man sitting on the wheelchair_.

"Uh, hi. I'm Hank. We're just going to get Drew." He sidesteps you and you are just bank? _What?_

"Excuse me?" You say, confuse. "Who are you exactly?" You turn to look at him as the other two people go inside the bedroom as well.

The one who enters first is the guy who saved you six years ago and the next is the one you saw the other night. The one who looks like a jock. The man on wheelchair doesn't bother to look at you, although it looks like he is tempted to look at you.

Drew almost shouts as they guy named Hank is about to hold him.

"I told you, you can't help me!" Drew panics and looks at me. "Y/N, stop them!"

You feel angry. Firstly, because the spare room is now a hot mess and secondly, there are people who just barged in and kidnap a young boy. It just doesn't make sense as to why this is all connected.

"Who do you think y'all are?" You hotly say. Trying to protect Drew, you move forward. Before you could attack them, a guy, you believe is named Alex from the other night, stops you. You can't believe that the guy who saved you six years ago would do this. He laughs softly. That sweet laugh will bring you good memories someday. _What are you talking about?_

"You're not the first one who said that, Drew. Trust me. I will help you." He says, moving closer until they can see the colors of their eyes.

"Charles, if you need the gloves I have them here." Hank says, patting his jean pockets. He's wearing gloves which are heat resistant since you witness them as they hold Drew without burning.

So that is his name. _Charles._

"Thank you, Hank. Now, what shall we do with you?" He turns to you and you freeze in sight. He really is beautiful. Those bright eyes are full of playfulness hidden behind them. He slightly smiles when he sees you. Did he heard what you just said? Does he remember you too? I bet not because he acts like it.

He frowns this time and his eyes are serious. " _I remember you."_ Your eyes widen and his lips aren't moving when he says that because he's right in front of you and you could never forget that voice that keeps replaying on you head for a thousand times. You realize that that sweet husky voice makes you miss it. He saved you for goodness sakes. No one is ever brave enough to do that.

He sighs as he looks right to you. He looks a bit sad and you don't know why. "I'm sorry." You raise one eyebrow with a confuse look like you already are from the past three hours.

Before you could say anything, he puts his index and middle finger on the side of his forehead. Back when you know it, your brain just goes black.

"We are welcomed here. You welcomed us." The wheelchair man says, making you stiff. It seems to be an order. You don't protest and you hear Drew whimpering but calming down.

"Yes, you did." You mutter. Your eyes are staring into nothing. It's like you're in a trance you can't get out of. You don't question him nor even spoke another word. It's as if you're already friends with the guy.

"Damn you're hot." He says, smiling and you do nothing. _Blank_.

"What did you do to her?" Drew questions. "I'll help myself with some tea. Do you guys want some" You ask. None of them nod their heads except maybe for Hank. You nod your head at him with a smile and head out to the kitchen to make tea.

"Well, I controlled her mind for a while. No biggie, her memories won't be affected by it.. Not all of it." He laughs with a hint of mischief and looks at Drew with an intent gaze.

"Drew, you need to be able to control your powers. We _can_ help you. There are no other school aside from this one." Charles reply. Alex but in by saying, "dude, we're just like you."

Hank bob his head in agreement. "I don't want to be a freak." Drew mutters but barely enough to be heard by Charles.

"Actually, there are other mutants who have much more to control of other than yours. There are other elements oppose by people like you. Alex is one." Charles motion Alex to come forward and he show his equipment where Drew sees a large circle on his stomach which seems to be made of metal or whatever it is and he grow more confused.

"If you really have trouble with your powers, Hank and I will take care of it." Drew scratches the back of his head and begins to stand up.

"How will I know that I could trust you?" He retorts, shifting his gaze from Charles, Hank and Alex.

"You will trust us and I'm not using my power to make you trust us." Charles remark just to be sure that he won't have the need to doubt.

"You did read the business card I gave you, did you?" Hank wonders and Drew nods his head shyly.

"I did but it seemed to… _unreal._ Like it's a fantasy. Look, I killed my parents and my sister! You don't want a murderer in there." Is about to cry and Charles grows pity on him.

"You're not a murderer, Drew. I'm surprised that you didn't kill Y/N." He chuckles but it's a sad one, just for the sake of him.

"Where is she? Where's my tea?" Hank looks at the door but you don't arrive yet.

"Charles?" Alex grows worry, seemingly to think that you ran off to get help.

"She's fine. I could sense her." He smirks at Alex and Alex rolls his eyes. "You used cerebro did you?" He chuckles and has a face which says I-knew-it.

"On Drew, yes. Yes I did. You're right about needing cerebro to look for him." He coyly replies. Alex smirks and looks at him, smugly.

"No. I meant that girl you saved from a food chain building." He says. "And I'm also right about the way to find Drew. You owe me."

"It's a failing Shoe brand company building, first of all and secondly, I didn't _use_ cerebro on Y/N." He stares at Alex but he surrenders. "Okay, maybe once. Or twice. Limit of that. Okay—"Charles looks at Drew once again, avoiding the embarrassment and shrugs. "So your decision?"

"Fine. I'll go with you." Before they could say anything, Drew cut their words. "But I have to say a proper goodbye to Y/N and make sure she's safe."

The three men agree and the four of them come to the kitchen where you're sitting down sipping green tea on a mug.

"Hello." You reply with a soft smile. Charles faints a little but barely noticeable for the others to see. "We're going to head out now, Ms. (Last Name = L/N). Thank you for your time." Charles reply, looking at you with a sharp gaze.

You only smile at him. He's such a nice guy. Maybe you should visit him on his house tomorrow. Maybe he's from next door, you don't know.

"Drew." He says. Drew turns his head to him and Charles tips his chin to him. "Take your time, we'll be outside." Charles uses both of his fingers and place it on the side of his forehead again and nothing seems to be happening.

Charles, Alex and Hank closes the front door of the apartment, leaving Drew and you behind. You suddenly feel like you just wake up inside a dream, like you're back from living under the rock. You blink a few times and wonder why you're sitting down in the kitchen and have green tea in front of you. It tastes good when it's supposed to be a bit bland when you did it. Odd.

"Drew?" You raise your eyebrows at him and look from sideways. "What happened? What time is it? How'd I get here?" Drew nervously chuckles and rubs a hand of his hair.

"Y/N, I have lots of explaining to do."

Then suddenly, it hits you when you remember Drew being all scorching warm that you need rain boots and a water jug to wake him up and three—three what? Something from the back of you just couldn't say it because you don't know what it is. There's something… something.

It must be the feeling of _déjà vu._


End file.
